The first question someone who gets promoted in their company and has to lead those who used to be their colleagues asks themselves is: how do I talk to them now? How do I make everyone here see that I have authority? This question is usually resolved in two ways:
- I get serious and distant. So everyone can see how incredibly serious I am.
- I try to come across as a buddy and friend to everyone around me so they see what a good little boss I am.
Whichever option we choose, the odds are we’ll tend to replicate it for the rest of our “boss” lives. And, also, it’s highly likely we’ll hop from one to the other to balance:
- One day we suddenly find ourselves so serious and distant that we switch to being the buddy to show that we have more resources.
- And another day we appear so buddy-buddy that we jump to super serious, just in case they think…
And the thing is that neither of those give us what we’re after: authority. Anyone who leads teams wants to have authority.
But what is authority?
Most of the managers I’ve spoken with over the years, if you ask them flat out what authority is, they look up at the ceiling. We want it, chase it, have spent years trying to make it visible, but we can’t quite articulate exactly what it is.
When I started leading people I asked myself hundreds of times whether I had enough authority or if I was lacking. Until one day I stopped asking. Do you know why? Because suddenly I had it.
Let me share what I learned.
The first thing I understood is that I was conflating two things: power and authority, and they’re not the same. Power came from the title. The day I signed on as director I could say “this is how it’s done” and it happened. Even if no one agreed. Even if I didn’t agree with it myself.
Authority was something else entirely. Authority is what happens when someone does what you say because they believe it makes sense and because they are motivated, not because you force them. And that didn’t come from the contract. It was given to me by others, day by day, almost imperceptibly. And it was taken away from me when I messed up, also without it being noticeable.
This is the key that took me the longest to understand: authority isn’t yours, you’re lent it by others. When I embraced that, I stopped asking myself “how do I project authority” and began asking “what do I have to do to earn it.”
And that, for me, boils down to three things. None of them have to do with being serious or buddy-buddy.
The first is knowing what you’re talking about. Seems obvious, but it isn’t. There are many leaders who manage teams on things they don’t fully understand. And everyone notices. When you explain a decision and it’s clear you’re just repeating something you read this morning, you get obedience, not authority. Obedience is complied with. Authority is followed.
The second is having your own judgment. There are people who know a lot but have no authority because they never stake their claim. They wait to see which way the wind blows, watch what the top decides, consult three people before offering an opinion. The team senses it instantly. And no matter how much you know, if you don’t stake your claim, others can’t rely on you. Because you don’t lean on someone who can’t stand on their own.
And the third, the hardest, is doing what you say. Consistency. Let what comes out of your mouth line up with what your actions produce, so there isn’t an uncomfortable gap. If you preach teamwork and then decide everything on your own, they notice. If you say mistakes are welcome and you look like you’re at a funeral when someone fails, they notice. If you say personal time matters and you send emails at 11 p.m., they notice. And all of that, drop by drop, drains the reservoir others had started filling for you.
Now comes the most important part
Because if I left it here, the article would be incomplete and, more importantly, dishonest.
I don’t know everything. I don’t have a fully formed criterion about everything. And, honestly, I don’t always do what I say. Probably you don’t either. Yet the real-authority bosses I know are in the same boat. What they do—and this is what I learned next—is acknowledge it aloud when it’s appropriate. “I don’t know this, help me.” “I’m still thinking about this topic.” “I said one thing and did another, I was wrong.”
That doesn’t diminish authority. It adds to it. And a lot. Because what really kills authority isn’t not knowing, nor doubting, nor messing up. It’s pretending.
But beware, because here’s another trap, the opposite one. Authority lives in balance. If you never know and you’re always thinking, if you never have a stance and you’re always drafting it, if you’re never coherent and you’re always apologizing… there’s no authority either. You have to move between the two walls. Know enough, but be able to say when you don’t know. Have your own judgment, but be able to doubt it when appropriate. Be coherent, but be able to admit when you’ve failed.
Not a superhero nor a drifting soul. Something in between. And that’s probably the hardest stance to sustain across a professional career.
Note that none of this has to do with being serious or being buddy-buddy. It all plays out on a different plane. You can have authority while being approachable. Or by being serious. The form is the least important. What matters is what lies beneath.
That’s why the dilemma with which we opened this article is a false one. Authority isn’t decided when you walk into the room. It’s decided in the months leading up to it, in how you treat yourself with what you know, what you think, what you do, and, also, what you don’t do.
And if the question is “How to have authority when entering a room where no one knows you and you don’t know anyone” I’d say the best answer is “Listen most of the time.”
Coté Soler, CEO of BeLiquid
